


sleepover scene

by dirtgrub



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn, In Trousers - Lapine/Finn
Genre: ESPECIALLY in trousers marvin, M/M, have you seen that kid? shitty. terrible, its fluff, marvin is slightly out of character because god knows he'd throw a FIT over something like this, tagged for teen bc of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-27 03:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12572308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtgrub/pseuds/dirtgrub
Summary: Whizzer paints Marvin's nails, Marvin is Marvin (based in In Trousers high school time?) (also look at my allusions to whizzer going down!!! im so witty!!!!!!)





	sleepover scene

Whizzer was digging around in his bag, faint sunlight framing the body of the other boy shifting impatiently next to him. He had called their usual chatter to a halt to announce that he had brought something for Marvin, right as Marvin was going to launch into another rant about _What the hell did their third period teacher have behind her sunglasses like is she a fucking gorgon what the shit._ Marvin felt slightly annoyed by this, but the excitement that flooded his brain at the thought of Whizzer, _Whizzer Brown_ , bringing something just for _him_ momentarily drowned out his pettiness.  


His hand came back with a small grey bottle which he carefully opened, letting the smell of nail polish burn their noses. He turned towards Marvin and curiously watched him prickle.  
  
"Whizzer. That shit's for girls."  


Whizzer gasped dramatically, alarmed as if Marvin had just told him they had an exam he hadn't known about.  
  
"Well shit, Marv! I guess I can't--" he swiped a small strip of the polish onto his thumbnail, making quite a show of it, "--oh. Looks like I can. Now give me your hand, dummy."  


Marvin stared stubbornly at him for a while, but Whizzer's stupid charming smile kept shining until he was unwittingly sitting there, hand resting gently on his friend's thigh. He wasn't sure where to look--he didn't think he was allowed to be this close. His eyes wandered across the room, wishing his mother hadn't painted his walls such a gross yellow. Wishing he wasn't wracked with this electric feeling that caused his breathing to shudder and hands to shake whenever he touched another boy.  
  
"Uh, dude? Keep your hand steady, or else I am 100% going to fuck up these white sheets."  


Marvin was pulled back into the moment, now staring at the neat color that covered most of his right hands's nails. Whizzer had chosen a grey polish, a nice neutral tone he knew Marvin couldn't argue with. He was being so delicate, so gentle and focused on perfectly painting his friend's nails that Marvin felt confused for a second. This was not the Whizzer Brown that he knew. This was not the Whizzer Brown who yanked on the smaller boy's bag while he was walking down the hall. This was not the the Whizzer Brown who would snap pictures of Marvin with that damn camera at just the wrong time, a collection of unflattering Marvin Orginals decorating his room and locker. This Whizzer was gently grabbing his left hand, muttering softly how Marvin's hands were _so clammy, what's wrong with you? _  
__

____

Okay, so maybe he was still the same Whizzer. But right now, in this moment that was encased by sharp fumes and dim light, he was... kinder.  


Whizzer finished up with Marvin's left hand, gently blowing on the paint to make it dry faster. Marvin jumped for two reasons: one being how _close_ Whizzer was, and _Jesus Whiz, why's it so goddamn cold??_ Whizzer shushed him and told him to stop being a baby. Satisfied with his work, he started screwing the top back on to the bottle.  
  
"Wait,"  


Whizzer stilled. Marvin clumsily grabbed the bottle from him, all too aware of the wet polish on his own nails.  
  
"I wanna do it, uh, for you."  


Chuckling lightly, Whizzer outstretched his hand to be Marvin's canvas. Marvin held the cap awkwardly, obviously new to this small form of art (his drying nails didn't help, either). He poured all of his concentration into doing a good job, keeping his hand as controlled as possible while Whizzer watched, bemused. Thirty minutes later, Marvin sat back and looked at his work. A bead of sweat rolled down his face.  


He had done a shitawful job. Rather than accidentally leave any amount of a certain nail uncovered, Marvin opted to paint the whole damn area surrounding it. The paint was uneven, and he had smudged one or two nails accidentally with his own hand while painting. Whizzer's chest swelled.  
  
"It looks terrible," he beamed.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not super happy with this but it's my first time posting -- I'm figuring out how to format this stuff?


End file.
